St. Charles Park District Nature News – May 15
Be careful what you wish for.
That’s the phrase that came to mind this week as I watched and read the news reports of the rain and resulting floods that hit the Chicago area Wednesday night into Thursday. Viaducts were underwater, roads were closed; a few basements got a good soaking too. Yet, only a few weeks ago, many people (myself included) were wishing we’d get a little more than the random sprinkles our “April showers” turned out to be.
Looking at the images of people pushing their cars thru standing water, I was reminded of the drenching we got a couple years ago, in September 2008. I distinctly remember visiting Otter Creek Bend in St. Charles, the park where we were supposed to be holding—fittingly, I might add—our fifth grade wetland ecology programs. The floodwaters had crept up the park’s asphalt path, nearly to the outhouse, and the park’s crushed limestone loop trail was invisible below 2 ft. of water.
But, wait a minute. The rain we got this week wasn’t anywhere near eight inches, or even seven. Weather.com says our two-day total for Wednesday and Thursday came in somewhere between 1.75 and 2 in. A mere drop in the bucket, so to speak.
Yet the paths at Otter Creek Bend were flooded again. Maybe not as inundated as two years ago, but too deep to walk through just the same. Otter Creek itself was swollen too, more so than what you’d expect from the rainfall we got.
Hmm. Interesting. Let’s think about this for a minute.
On the one hand, Otter Creek Bend, a wetland park, was doing exactly what it’s supposed to do: Bowl-like in shape, it’s meant to act as a sponge, soaking up excess water and returning it underground where it can slowly trickle back to the aquifers that give us our drinking water.
But on the other hand, the < 2 inches of rain that fell—albeit quickly—really shouldn’t have caused that much of a rise in the water levels. Unless…
The unless in this case is stormwater runoff, the water that literally runs off any impermeable surface—roadways, sidewalks, driveways, roofs, even the tightly compacted soil of our yards—and into our local waterways. Some runoff is direct, as in the water that drains off bridges and into streams. But much of it is delivered to our creeks and rivers via storm drains. As our area has developed over the past couple of decades, more and more of these outlets have appeared along our streambanks.
Storm drains might have been the cat’s meow whenever they were first invented. They took water that could be troublesome in one area and diverted it to another location. And maybe that was okay years ago, when our area wasn’t as populated and runoff was considerably less. But today, when all that pollution-laden runoff rushes into a stream,
it’s only headed for someone else’s neighborhood. After all, we all live downstream from someone.
There will always be areas that need storm drains, there’s no doubt. But there also are many areas where the amount of rainwater being drained away can be lessened. Permeable pavers, rain gardens and rain barrels all are readily available alternatives to storm drains that can help direct some of our excess water back into the ground.
Best of all, these old-school innovations are low tech and easy to install. Rain barrels, for example, can be hooked up to a downspout in no time and will collect gallons of roof runoff that can then be used to water your lawn and garden. In fact, I’ve had my eye on a rain barrel for some time now. When my birthday rolls around this year, that’s what I’m going to wish for…
*** Several of you called or emailed this past week to check on the status of the mom duck nesting in the parking lot island at the Pottawatomie Community Center.
Remember how I said we’d count the eggs as they hatched? Well, something, or someone, made our job considerably easier. When Lauren, our naturalist department supervisor, went to check on the nest last Monday morning, all she found was a deserted depression in the leaves. Mom, and her 12 potential offspring, all were gone. Just that quick, the question of when we would see ducklings turned into a case of Whodunnit.
We’ve spent much of the week pondering what could have happened to the eggs, which vanished without a trace. Not one speck of shell remained, so the obvious suspects like raccoons and mink were eliminated right off the bat. Coyotes are a distinct possibility, as are foxes—if any remain in the area. And then there’s the human factor. Maybe a well-intentioned individual, or someone with a fondness for duck-egg omelets, helped themselves to the nest’s contents.
What happened to the duck eggs? The world may never know. But we’ll keep our eyes open, and let you know if mom comes back for another round.
Pam Otto is the manager of nature programs and interpretive services for the St. Charles Park District. She can be reached at potto@stcparks.org or 630-513-4346.